Fallen Light
by Redemption Overture
Summary: A stealthful assassin; A Brotherhood outcast, two people. One story. From hell and back they've experienced both. The wasteland is a friend of no-one but death, anguish, and agony.
1. Captive

CHAPTER I: CAPTIVE

A man, caught in the clutch of bitter agony, running for his life. Dodging bullets, heaving, coughing, choking, sprinting for who knows where. His pursuers, a band of thugs, simply sat back and unloaded their arms into the staggering man. They taunted harsh obscenities, and then it came. He took a bullet into the spine. His strength and body systematically failing, he fell to the ground. Twitching, he attempted to crawl. He was momentarily stopped. A boot to the head. The thug pressed harder. The man screamed in agony, losing consciousness. The thug lifted his foot swiftly and slammed down on his bare head. A splatter of red and a crunch and his life was over.

The thugs looted his body of a bottle of whiskey, half empty. The leader pocketed it. A stimpack, two inhalers of Jet, and nine pills of Buffout. The thugs fought over the chems, one of the more stealthy thugs took all of the Buffout and quickly put them in his pocket . The fighting thugs realized the key to their happiness was gone. They quickly became enraged.

The lone thief ran behind one of the thugs' outhouses and threw them in his mouth. He struggled to swallow them due to his dehydration. He enjoyed the burst of brain function and ecstasy as he fell into a chem induced high.

A gunshot rang throughout the camp, alerting a few of the thugs. a woman outfitted with rough leather armor, metal shoulder plates, knee plated leather pants, a bandolier filled with large bullets, two holsters at sides containing two 44-Magnum revolvers, and a long katana fixed to her back in a strap took cover behind a ruined shack. She held a Type 88 sniper rifle, a pre-war Chinese rifle. She had missed her target, the intoxicant.

PTANG! "FUCK!"

"Urgh… Wha.!" The druggy gargled out as he fell to the ground. Four other men, one armed with a pistol, another with a shotgun, and the other two with rifles. They found the intoxicated man, "THIS IS THE LITTLE FUCKER THAT TOOK THE CHEMS!" They savagely kicked him in the gut. They spat in his face, the thug was still delirious. The woman saw her chance. She holstered her rifle and unsheathed her katana. She sprinted to the thugs.

SKUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS! A whip and blur of steel and the thug that was beating the druggy was decapitated, blood spurting out in fountains each pulse. As if in slow motion she threw the katana at another thug wielding a shotgun, it embedded itself deep in his chest. He gargled on blood and fell to his knees, she swiftly drew her 44's and put a bullet in two other thug's heads. "Between the eyes… Nice…" She said under her breath and she smugly walked over to the final thug cowering next to the high thug.

"Please! Don't hurt me!"

"Why not? You kill for pleasure, the cowering victim. The CRYING victim!"

"Please…"

"AND YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING SPARE YOU?"

As quick as she said it she stuck the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

She heard strong thumps as the rest of the camp's shoes and boots clattered in the sand and rubble. She needed to get out. She ran back the way she came. KRRRRRRAAAKKKK! The woman was sent flying; she flipped and sprawled into the rubble. A bullet made a hole straight through her side, she was bleeding heavily. A mushy slop of red and goop was gushing out of her side; she couldn't do anything about her approaching foes. She lost her bearings, and slipped into unconsciousness.

She awoke to find herself cold and on the ground. In a dark shack, a trail of blood to where she was currently. She was stripped of her clothing and weapons. She was appalled, confused, and feeble. Her vision was blurry but it was clear enough to make out a strong and grizzled man walk over to her. He whispered in her ear fiercely "Ye' killed aur' men. I'm gonna' make ya' wish ya' was dead.

He took his pants off, he was going to attempt to rape her. "Not strong are ye' now lil' lady, are ya'?" He pinned her down. She tried to punch him but it was no use. With a swift hook to the side of her head she fell into unconsciousness.

"Wake up lil' lady!" the leader of the thugs barked at her. "Time fer' some healin'!" A man outfitted with a tank on his back opened the door to the shack. The light that was able to succeed into the darkness was blinding. He also carried a Flamer in tote. "Le' it rip boy." The leader smirked as he watched the other thug open a valve and take the Flamer off of safety. ! The leader held her down as the blazing flame burned her violently. She couldn't do anything, she was incapacitated with searing flame. All she could do was scream as it charred her left side and turned her flesh into a shriveled, peeling, black crisp.

Minutes turned to hours, she was losing hope. Her side smelt like an overcooked coyote dinner. She was wounded, bleeding, and was in minor shock. The leader had receded a bit before, snarling "This is happenin' for te' rest of ya' live'." She was too weak and distraught to do anything. She closed her eyes.

KUKUKUKUKUKU! Groggily, she tried to get up. She couldn't. She lurched and coughed up blood. She fell to the ground with a thump, she looked at her wound. The burn was up her side, characterized by blood splashed throughout it. The hole that the bullet punched through was burnt together, she had been cauterized inhumanly. She wasn't dead; they make it clear they want her want to suffer.

KABAM! A few gunshots, they brought her hope. Maybe that she would be found. Be saved. About 9 shots rang out in the last five minutes, incoherent screaming and shouting. Hours passed. Hope was lost.

The leader walked in the door with food.

"Ye'll have ta' eat if ya' are gonna' live."

"I'm n-not eating."

"Suit ya' self lil' lady."

The leader threw his head back and parched his desert of a throat with a swig of whiskey. He then ate the two pieces of radroach greedily. Licking his fingers, he sneered "Ya' were gonna' need that energy!" The process of the day before was repeated.

The next day, the woman awoke. Her head was throbbing. She regained her bearings and realized that she was still in trouble. KASH! The sound of a heavy weapon resonated through her ears. The thugs' only heavy weapon was that Flamer. She was sure of it.

The first thing that came to her mind was the Brotherhood of Steel. It could have been a strong loner, another group, or a band of other thugs. She was ready for the worst.

Screaming, shouting and moans mingled with her grogginess, playing things off in her head. KACHUK! The shack door broke open with a crash.

"WHO DID YE' BRING WIT YA'!"

"U-uh no-no one."

"YOU LIL' SHIT!"

"I was the only o-one…"

"STA' LIEING!"

TATATATATA! A flurry of bullets and the leader fell to the ground in a mist of blood. A hand reached to the woman, it was an armored hand. She reached for it, the figure helped her up. The woman tried desperately to get a hold of her mind.

"Are you okay?"

"F-Fine." The woman managed to sputter out while rubbing her eyes.

"You know where any of your things are?" The figure noticed her nakedness, most importantly the grizzly burn on her left side.

"Nope."

"Did you have any?"

"Yes."

"What happened for you to get caught?"

"I fucked up."

"Hm."

"How did you find me?"

"I don't know."

"I was wandering, came across this quaint little pile of shit."

"Go on…"

"I was in bad need of food and water, they had it."

"And that's why you came?"

"These Raiders don't even deserve to see the light of day; I was doing them a favor."

"Agreed."

"So now, we need to find your things."

"I can barely walk."

"I'll help you, you need medical attention and food."

"Yep."

"Either come with me, or go on your own with that burn."

"I guess I'll have to go with you."

"Let's go."

The man, equipped with light power armor, a dirt caked black bandana snaked around his head, and a distinctive Brotherhood of Steel mark across the chest of the power armor. The armor was heavily painted with chipping black and red paint, an outcast. He held an AK-47 in his hand. His face bore a scar. He looked immensely sharp, his straight brown hair stuck to the sides of his head due to sweat. He helped her up. He asked her,

"What's your name?"

"Ali, my name is Alise."

"I'm Thomas, Thomas Sanderson."

They nodded heads and quickly departed. In a shack left of the one Alise was held in, they found her equipment. She quickly put on her undergarments, put on her plated pants, her vest, and her bandolier. Every single time she moved it shot searing pain through her side. The bandolier was missing grenades and a few bullets. He found the holsters, she put them on. They were fixed to her rough hide belt.

She found her twin 44's and flipped them into the holsters like a gunslinger. She found her katana; he hooked it on to the bandolier and flipped it on her back. Her sniper rifle was under everything; she hooked the strap to her bandolier and cocked it.

She put on her boots, tied them, and stood up. She asked,

"You ready?"

"I'm ready for anything." Thomas smirked.

"Good." Alise broke into a fit of chuckling. "Thanks for saving me."

"It was nothing."

"Thanks."


	2. Danger's Way

CHAPTER II: DANGER'S WAY

The twosome left camp. Dust was fluttering and springing up each individual step. Alise cringed every single step. She caught her breath and attempted to spark a conversation.

"I see you're in Outcast armor."

"Huh, it's nothing." His repressed memories fighting for the Brotherhood of Steel quickly came into his mind as a fresh, strong, and overcoming feeling of distraught as he searched into the fabrics of his emotion.

"You okay?" She asked as he slowed his pace and became to look disturbed.

"Ah… nothing."

"Well, okay."

Minutes passed, Alise was blankly following Thomas to for all she could know was a trap. He broke the monochromatic clatter of rubble under their shoes with,

"We need to get that burn patched up. It's third degree and you won't last long."

"It feels like my skin is ripping every time my side moves in any way."

"Point made, an Outcast base is a few kilometers away, hang in the-"

Thomas was cut off mid-sentence, a pack of three howling coyotes. They looked badly malnourished. The coyotes' muzzles flared with thick drool. They began to sprint down at the two. Alise unsheathed her katana. The barking got louder, closer...SKU! Squeals of pain, and a momentary silence. "There is bound to be more around here." She clutched her side, the movement had caused more pain. Thomas simply nodded, they continued on without a word.

The sky became somber, oncoming night was not a good sign. Alise becoming restless and trapped in her mind concerning the bad things that could happen. She finally grew to the point of asking:

"We've been walking for a few hours now; ten kilos have been undoubtedly covered."

"Seven actually, progress has been slow because of obstructions."

"Then how far is it? I feel like I could pass out right here."

"It's not very far, a kilometer or so."

"Earlier you said a few; it's been quite a bit more than a few."

"Look, it's not like I can't sugarcoat it anymore."

"Hrm."

She continued to follow him. Glary lights in the distance, she assumed it was the base.

"That's it."

"Apparently." Her pain was getting the better of her and making her irritable.

"A warm bed and some brahmin steak await us."

"Seriously!"

"Yeah, we've got it pretty good when it comes to leisure, but it's a high traffic area for Raiders and other miscellaneous unfortunates."

"It sure as hell is a beacon for attack."

"Yeah, wasn't in mind when we took the facility."

"What was it used for pre-war?"

"It was a police station, not much was left. All we did was put up a fence and a turret."

"Well, you don't have to be ready to shoot something every minute."

"Eh, you still have to reload the turret. We don't have many 50 caliber BMG boxes left."

"Wait… Couldn't we get shot by getting too close!"

"We have guys that control it over the day, if not, it shoots anything hot."

"So any living thing when the turret is unarmed is dead?"

"Pretty much, we can't exactly do anything when we don't have enough people to use it."

"Then that's pretty damn dangerous."

"We've gotten a caravan nearly obliterated."

"What about us, you want to walk us into a wall of bullets?"

"It has color recognition, if it's black and red it does not fire."

"What about me?"

"Stay out of firing range and I'll shut it off for a minute"

"Mhm..."

They got in vicinity of the outpost.

"Stay here."

Alise nodded and walked over to a nearby ruined car and tried to sit down without causing too much pain to her side. Thomas raised his hands and walked closer into the fenced in station. The gate opened, a screeching sound caused by the grinding gears and metal played with their ears. Thomas walked in and the gate closed again, the sound not as nearly loud.

He opened the door to the outpost and went in. A few voices were heard over the silence of night. A few minutes later, Thomas came back out. He signaled Alise to come over. His body was aglow from the overhead streetlight that illuminated the front of the building. After of having her body in rest, it was a hard feat to get to stand. Her side flared with pain.

She made her way to Thomas, stumbling in the darkness. The gate repeated the sound, Alise cringed. As she crossed to the other side, the fence abruptly closed.

A person in full armor walked out of the station itself, gun raised. He examined Alise and began to rant,

"You want us to help little rat girl?"

Thomas, annoyed, replied:

"Yes, and you'll have to learn how to respect "Outsiders"."

The person chuckled,

"Whatever."

It led them inside and into a room; it had four metal hospital beds. Small UV lights hung from the ceiling, a counter with many intimidating and sharp tools, and a large cabinet on the far left of the room. Thomas flipped a switch and they quickly filled the room with blinding light.

The person took it's helmet off, it revealed a man. He requested information about Alise,

"Who is she?"

"I found her in a Raider camp held captive, her name is Alise."

"She looks fine." The power armored man looked at her up and down.

"She's anything but."

"You brought a chem addict here, didn't you."

"Shut the hell up Caleb."

"She looks high, I don't trust her with those guns either."

Alise ignored the rest until now,

"You aren't going to take my fucking guns!"

Caleb flipped his rifle and put it to her head.

"You want it, you bitch?"

Thomas broke the predicament,

"Listen to him."

Alise sighed and threw her rifle to the ground, took her holsters off, and laid her katana on the floor, the barrel of the gun still in her face.

"That's all I have."

"The ammo too."

She unhitched the bandolier from her vest and dropped it to the ground.

"Take your clothes off; the doc will be here in a minute."

Both of the men walked out of the door to their right, taking her stuff with them. Click! The door shut, she took off her vest, her undershirt was stained red on the left side. She propped herself onto the bed and laid down and shut her eyes, without warning the doctor walked in through the other side of the room. Alise was quickly alerted and twisted her head.

A tall rather pudgy woman came in; she had long and curled light brown hair. She had a sharp yet bulky jaw that made her cheek bones pronounced, she wore a white trench coat that had dried blood on the front of it. She had a laser pistol holstered to her left thigh.

"Sorry to surprise you, my name is Samantha. I'm the doctor here."

"Nice to see another female out here", Alise said as she laughed.

Samantha shared the laughter and then noticed the black showing from her side and the blood stains on the tattered greyish shirt. Samantha courteously asked her name,

"What's your name?"

"Alise, you can call me Ali."

Samantha wrote a few things down, She asked

"What is your injury?"

Alise lifted her shirt up to reveal a burn from her lower abdomen to the bottom of her ribcage. Samantha gasped. She was baffled, it was a medical miracle. She quickly uttered,

"How did you make it all the way here with that?"

"I pushed through the pain."

"What even happened!"

"I was captured by some Raiders and I was shot, they sealed up the wound with a flamer."

"You need to get operated on, now."

"Wouldn't that hurt?"

Samantha sighed.

"You're going to die if we don't. If any of the bullet is still in you the heat broke down the lead, your blood could be getting poisoned right now. Other than that, your internal organs could have been damaged too. One thing is for sure, we will have to remove A LOT Of skin."

"Do what you have to do."

"I need to prep amnesia; I'm going to have to knock you out for this."

Samantha pulled a keychain out of her felt pocket; she fit a key into a lock opened a cabinet to the left of the room. She rummaged through miscellaneous things and took a bottle of whiskey, Mentats, a bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum, and two Med-X syringes.

She reached over to a counter near her and grabbed a knife. She opened the pack of Mentats and took two out, she set them on the counter. She resealed the carton and put it back in the cabinet. She slid the knife under the cap of Nuka-Cola and popped it off. She put the knife back and grabbed a small hammer. THWACK! One Mentat was crushed into powder. THWACK! The other one was made into fine white grain.

She twisted the cap off of the whiskey and took a tin funnel out of the cabinet. She slid the funnel into the bottle and put it to the side of the counter. She cupped her hand and scooped the crushed Mentats into the funnel. She took the funnel out and put it on the counter. Samantha twisted the cap back onto the whiskey and shook it up.

She unscrewed the cap again, and poured the Nuka-Cola Quantum into the whiskey concoction, Samantha looked at Alise who was observing her make it. Samantha intently said,

"Stronium-90, it reacts to the dopamine in the Mentats. Whiskey is just to ensure you'll be out."

Alise was silent, Samantha continued,

"We'll start the operation soon; I need to just look you over."

Alise nodded.

Samantha walked over to the bed she was on; she lifted her shirt and examined the burn. She grimaced again,

"We'll need a skin graft."

"Okay."

"Do you know your blood type?"

"Nope."

"I'll have to get your blood type."

Samantha went back over to the still open cabinet and took out an empty syringe and a linen rag. She returned to the bed. Samantha wrapped the rag around Alise's upper right arm; she tightened it as much as she could. "This will only be a small prick…" She quickly jabbed the needle into one of her veins, she slowly pulled on the back of it. The syringe was full of her blood; she pulled the needle out precisely.

She removed the rag from Alise's arm and walked back to the cabinet. She reached in and pulled out a tube, she put the rag on the counter and emptied the syringe's contents into the tube. She grabbed the knife and sliced her thumb, she let blood drop into the vial. Samantha returned to the cabinet and got a bandage for herself, a microscope, and a flat piece of porcelain with a groove in it.

She set the things on the counter and poured the blood into the piece or porcelain. She slid it under the microscope and announced,

"You're Type O."

She picked up the microscope and dumped the porcelain slide's contents into a nearby sink. She returned the microscope to its rightful spot in the cabinet. She took out an I.V. bag, it was full of blood.

Samantha set the blood on the counter and reached for an I.V. pole that was to the left of the cabinet, she pulled it into her and grabbed the blood. She slid it into a slot and secured it. A series of tubes fell from the pole, she hooked them into the slot and connected two to them to the bag of blood.

She went to the cabinet and pulled out a syringe that could be screwed into tubing. She returned to the pole and hooked it in to a tube. She pulled the pole to Alise and plunged the needle into her wrist.

She returned to the counter and pulled it to the table, an array of sharp instruments was shown. Samantha picked up the whiskey concoction and requested, 

"Can you please sit up?"

Alise nodded, and forced her body up.

Samantha handed her the drink, she instructed her to

"Drink it as fast as you can."

Alise took the cap of and forced it down her throat, it tasted pasty, sour, and extremely sweet. She aimed it up and let the rest pour down into her throat. She coughed and remarked,

"Done."

Samantha replied anxiously,

"You'll go unconscious soon; you'll either wake up or not."


	3. Treatment

CHAPTER III: TREATMENT

Minutes later, Alise was unconscious. Samantha reached down to the counter for a syringe of Med-X; she walked to the other side of the bed and lifted Alise's chin up slightly. She turned her head to the left and steadily pricked it into her jugular. She pushed in the syringe's plunger and removed and disposed of it.

She pulled the counter even closer to her, took out a pair of refurbished gloves and took a scalpel. She held the scalpel in one hand as she clutched Alise's tattered shirt and removed it, tossing it to the floor. Thoughts blazed into her mind, how was she going to do this? How was she going to approach the injury? She made up her mind and raised her scalpel.

She made an incision in her left side; about two inches long. She watched red, brown, and pungent liquids flow out. Samantha grimaced and continued on; she reached for a rag and put it to her side. She applied pressure on her stomach and more ooze ran out. She continued to sop up the secretions with the growingly putrid cloth.

She ran her fingers into the cut, her hand rubbed across a sharp object. She reached her hand in and grabbed it, it was a full bullet. Samantha thought to herself; how did it stay intact? She put the bullet, which was covered in a fine red onto the rolling counter.

She processed how she would attempt the skin graft. She pushed on her stomach a few more times to ensure most of the grotesque slime was removed. She plucked a clean rag from the counter and wiped her side with it. She opened a small drawer under counter and pulled out a black and beaten bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

She poured a part of the crumpled bottle's contents into the rag, she put the cap back on the peroxide and returned it to its compartment. She proceeded to rub in cut and her side, charred skin was flaking off. She reached her hand into the open wound and felt the muscle and cartilage. Samantha concluded that her internal organs weren't harmed.

She cringed at the thought of the skin graft, but it had to be done. She cleared her mind and set down the scalpel. She picked up a large kitchen knife that she had used in the past. It was slightly dull, but could still cut the skin. It was discolored to a soft brown, but was not rusted.

Samantha did a few equations in her head about the skin needed. She needed to make sure she didn't take too much, or not enough; that she went too deep, or not deep enough; and not to cause nerve damage.

She decided to donor from Alise's thigh and back leg. She set the knife and peroxide rag down. She removed Alise's pants; she tossed them aside. She reached for the knife and made a small equation in her head about how much to take, how deep, and what to do if it went wrong.

Samantha raised her knife. SKISH! The blade cut through Alise's skin with ease, a slab a skin was sagging from her right thigh. Samantha pressed a little harder and it slid off of her body. The area the skin was cut from was a light red and barely bled. Samantha had cut it perfectly.

She continued to pick up the skin and set it down on the counter; She returned her focus to Alise's leg now. She pushed her body into a position where the open wound wasn't touching anything and her back leg was exposed.

She raised her knife and briskly cut through the various tissues. She had cut from her left upper back leg, under the buttocks. She cut well, the flesh slopped down on metal of the bed. The blood hardened on Samantha's gloves and caused them to not be as agile.

She reached for the slab of skin to no avail; it kept slipping out of her hands. She scooped it from under and set it down on the counter. Her knife which was beginning to become a burden due to having to maneuver it whenever she needed to reach for anything; she set it down on the counter next to the red and agitated skin. She took her gloves off, and wiped a few droplets of sweat off of her forehead.

She picked up the grimy gloves and put them on a counter across the room, she returned to the cabinet and put on another pair of gloves. Continuing the operation, she walked back to the rolling metal counter and returned the knife to her hands.

She realized that she had cut the skin from the opposite side of the wound, therefore she could not put Alise on her side; she continued on anyway. Samantha started on the burn; she removed the charred, flaking, and black skin. Blood was scarce in the wound.

Gagging as the black skin was removed, the smell of gases from the cooked cells and flesh flushed through Samantha's senses. She set the skin to the side; she was going to dispose of it after the operation was complete.

She set down the knife; she reached under the counter and opened a drawer. She pulled out some fine wire and a dwarfed sewing needle. She set them on the top of the counter, she shut the drawer. She opened one to the left of it, she took out the peroxide again and a lot of cloth bandaging.

She set everything down; and reached for the skin. She struggled to keep it supported in her hands and set it down on Alise's bare stomach. She positioned one piece of skin over the now bare flesh of the wound.

She pressed it into place; it attached itself to the bare wound. The blood was coagulating and causing scabbing which was uncommon for such deep wounds. The molecules of nearly coagulated blood were thick and glue like.

Samantha swiftly grabbed the wire and sewing needle; she tended to Alise's wound. One prick after another, it bound the new skin to the damage. She had to continue and do it on the other half of the burn.

She placed the skin on the remainder of the wound and repeated the process, within minutes the wound was mostly not visible. A small amount of purple flesh peeked from under the graft, but wasn't extremely visible.

Samantha now needed to repair the donor area; she set down the now crimson glazed needle. She picked up the knife and cut the remaining wire and tucked the bud of it into the wound so that it would not come undone.

She set down the knife and unscrewed the peroxide, she poured it over Alise's side, it bubbled with a weak but audible pops. She screwed the cap back on to the peroxide and put it back on the counter. She lifted the cotton cloth and unwound it, she cleaned off Alise's side; the dank brown cloth turned to a soft red in areas.

She flipped Alise over and wrapped her back leg and thigh with the cotton; she returned the cotton to the counter and reached for her knife which was glimmering red. She slid the knife over the cotton with precision; she pulled the cut cotton which she had made into a bandage for Alise's side.

She set the knife down and looked at Alise's wound to make sure it was big enough. She fit it into place; sure enough, it fit. It stuck to the wound and the operation was over. Samantha cleaned up; Alise still was under the effects of the amnesia.


End file.
